


Istarnië

by starlightwalking



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Crispy Amrod, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mother Names of Foresight, Mother-Son Relationship, Prophetic Dreams, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26622430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: Nerdanel dreams of her children, each in turn, and the ones who will be bound to them.
Relationships: Nerdanel & Sons of Fëanor, Other: See Story Notes - Relationship
Comments: 17
Kudos: 52





	Istarnië

**Author's Note:**

> Pairings featured in this fic: Maedhros/Fingon, Maglor/Amani wife, Maglor/Daeron, Celegorm/Oromë, Caranthir/Haleth, Curufin/Amani wife, Amras/Sinda wife  
> (There were simply just too many to tag, especially considering the main focus of this fic is about Nerdanel and her sons.)
> 
> This is (mostly) compliant with my [Fëanorian Redemption verse](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484228); the only difference is that in that verse, Amrod survives Losgar, and here he does not.

Mothers have the gift of foresight, sometimes. Nerdanel has never thought of herself as particularly gifted in that area, certainly not nearly as much as Indis or Arafinwë, but when her first child is born she is overcome by a vision she barely understands, of a blazing fëa brighter even than Fëanáro’s, perfectly crafted, perfectly made.

Years later she dreams of her children, each in turn, and the ones who will be bound to them. It is easiest to spot with Makalaurë, the first to wed, but she soon sees it in Maitimo as well. She doesn’t recognize her dreams of Findekáno for what they are until Makalaurë’s wedding, where the love between him and his new wife shines bright in their eyes, and she remembers them dancing in her visions...and then she catches a glimpse of Maitimo, looking not to his brother but to his cousin, dear Finno, and _oh_.

Maitimo, she named him: _well-made._ She did not name him for his loveliness, though he _is_ lovely, but for the kindness and goodness of his fëa. He is her proudest and best creation, and he radiates a light that all can see save himself. And that is what she sees reflected in Findekáno’s eyes, and she finally understands.

She dreams of Makalaurë singing, playing the harp to win the love of his bride. It is easy to recognize the signs of him falling in love with the nís who will become his wife; his voice is like molten gold as he serenades her, and Nerdanel knows she named him well.

She also catches glimpses of a golden sword, not that she recognizes it for what it is at the time, and of nightingales and longing and flashes of silver hair and gleaming antlers. It is not until later, much later, when she meets Daeron, that she realizes that was part of her son’s future-past love as well.

She dreams of her third son in the wilderness, running, running, always running. She sees him chasing game, chasing his brothers, chasing terrible creatures of darkness.

Nerdanel is not at all surprised when Tyelkormo, her hasty riser, is drawn to Oromë. She is not even much surprised when he rushes headfirst into his Vala’s arms, chasing him like he used to chase maidens.

Carnistir she dreams blushing. It is obvious to her that he will be a mess around those he loves, but the glimpses she catches of his wife are strange. She’s so small, and yet so broad, her skin wrinkled in a way that baffles Nerdanel—and yet she cannot help but laugh along with her when she sees how red her son becomes as he tries to stumble through a conversation.

But just as he is awkward, he is earnest and sincere. Of course this strange, small wife of his will fall for him.

Her Atarinkë is in so many ways like his father. He is just as oblivious as Fëanáro was with her when his beloved first tries to get his attention.

In Nerdanel’s dreams she _is_ the nís who will capture Atarinkë’s heart, and sometimes she thinks she is reliving her own past, the day when her husband showed up to her father’s forges, except that the little details are different. She is looking up at Atarinkë, not down at Fëanáro, and her son moves in ways that are uniquely his own.

She also sees his son, how gentle and good he is with the child. She names Atarinkë for his father, yes, but she names him also for the father she knows he will become.

Ambarussa—the elder—she sees at the side of a nís with russet brown hair, not quite as fiery as Nerdanel’s own but complimenting her son’s darker shade. They roam together in the woods, wild and joyous even as shadows draw near to them.

She looks...strange. Not like Carnistir’s wife, who seems barely elvish at all, but like the light of Aman has never touched her. In Ambarussa’s glow, she is darkness. They balance each other in a way that surprises her.

For Ambarussa the younger she has no dreams of love at all. At first this distresses her, and in her desperate attempts to look into his future she sees only visions of pain and fire—

But then one day he admits to her that he simply doesn’t feel that way for anyone, and she realizes she _has_ seen the future of his heart. It is with his family, with his twin: he does not need another.

(When she hears—feels, really—of the flames at Losgar, Nerdanel screams her throat raw. He never even has that chance, to be his own nér, free from any ties but blood. He chose another bond, that damned Oath to his father’s jewels, and he died for it. It explains, though, why he was not present in the dreams of his brother’s meetings with his Sindar wife. He did not make it that far.)

The Oath takes them all, in truth.

Ambarussa is devoured by flame; his twin’s wife abandons him when he follows the Oath to kill her people instead of clinging to his vows to her. Atarinkë’s wife leaves him in an echo of Nerdanel’s own departure from Fëanáro, and his son follows him like he follows his father. Carnistir never marries his love: he turns red in anger, cannot find the words or strength to put her before his Oath even for the short span of her mortal life. Tyelkormo flees east from Oromë, forsaking him and falling into an avalanche of dreadful choices from which only his forgotten faith could have saved him. Makalaurë leaves his harp and his wife for that golden sword and the aching lament of the nightingale-singer.

And Maitimo...

He tries the most, she thinks, but he and Findekáno were doomed long before they ever began. The Oath and the Doom follow him, turning all his good actions to evil, and he loses Findekáno in a failed attempt at unity, a unity he and his beloved never quite could consummate.

Nerdanel’s mother named her Istarnië: the wise, the mournful. This disturbed her father, much as the name Umbarto disturbed Fëanáro, but Nerdanel sees so much more grief for her own children than her mother did for her.

Istarnië is wise because she knows pain and cannot prevent sorrow. She is mournful because she witnesses the suffering of her children alongside their joy, and that grief becomes her own.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Istarnië_ is not given a direct translation, and was rejected as a name for the wife of Fëanor, but I repurpose it as Nerdanel’s amilessë. It contains the elements _istar_ , “wisdom” (seen also in _Istari_ ), and _nië_ , “tears” (seen also in _Nienna_ and _Niënor_ ); therefore, I translate it as “wise tears,” which seems prophetic of her losses and could be a mother name of foresight in its own right.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please comment if you enjoyed!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


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